Satisfied with the outcome of my experiment, I returned to my office.
The timing was precise.
Almost immediately, Shuna arrived to inform me that guests had arrived. Judging from her expression, there were not just one or two.
I gave a quiet nod.
Hosting guests had become a routine part of my reign. Most of my days were spent receiving envoys, nobles, merchants, and wanderers. The remainder of my time was devoted to refining magic, designing new systems, assigning personnel to their proper roles, overseeing the Labyrinth, and consulting with Myourmiles on matters of commerce and logistics.
Even enjoyment, when properly managed, was a form of duty.
That said, hospitality was not a trivial matter. Anyone who stepped into Eterna did so under my authority, and I treated that responsibility with seriousness.
Shuna led me to the guest room.
Inside waited Shinji and his two companions. Their tension was obvious. They had been granted asylum within Eterna, and over the past several days, they had cooperated fully—sharing everything they knew about the Empire, its structure, and its intentions.
There had been no coercion.
No interrogation.
They were questioned peacefully, separately, and given complete freedom during their stay. The choice of their future had been left entirely to them.
Today, they had come to deliver their answer.
"So," I said calmly, my voice steady and firm, "have you reached a decision?"
The three had struggled with their options.
They could remain independent adventurers—challenging the Labyrinth repeatedly, amassing wealth beyond what most could dream of. However, they now understood the reality.
The Labyrinth was no longer something they could conquer.
The Demon Colossus, soon to be stationed on the 60th Floor, would halt them completely. And even if—by some miracle—they passed it, Adalmann and his forces awaited them on the 70th Floor.
It was an absolute dead end.
Endless repetition. No progress. No future.
The knowledge had drained their ambition. Riches alone were meaningless if their lives became stagnant.
Frankly, I couldn't fault them.
The Labyrinth's guardians had evolved far beyond expectation. Such growth—bordering on transcendence—was unheard of under normal circumstances.
I dismissed the matter.
What mattered was their future.
Working under my banner would grant them stability, purpose, and protection. Yet war with the Empire loomed, and they feared conscription.
I had no intention of forcing loyalty at swordpoint.
Still, I could not promise that the tides of war would never reach them.
"Yes," Shinji said at last, bowing deeply. "After discussing it among ourselves, we wish to serve His Majesty Atem's kingdom. Since Master Gadra has chosen to do so, we humbly request permission to follow the same path."
The other two nodded, resolute.
"Very well," I replied without hesitation. "Your request is granted."
Relief washed over them instantly.
"Thank you very much!"
"I swear to give everything I have!"
"…I will not disappoint."
With that, the three officially became citizens of Eterna.
Now came the question of their roles.
"I will assign Gadra to oversee the 60th Floor," I said. "He will conduct research on the Demon Colossus, with the eventual goal of piloting it himself."
That old scholar possessed an insatiable hunger for knowledge. When introduced to the Colossus, his enthusiasm had bordered on obsession.
At present, Adalmann supervised him. In time, Gadra would likely become the floor's permanent guardian.
Turning back to the trio, I asked, "You wish no involvement in the war?"
Shinji hesitated. "There are… people we know. If it can be avoided, we would prefer not to fight."
Understood.
In that case, research was the obvious path.
I decided to introduce them to Ramiris.
Together, we descended into the Labyrinth and made our way to her laboratory.
"Ramiris," I said, "these are Shinji and his companions. Would you accept them as researchers?"
She squinted at them, then gasped. "Ah! Atem! They're the kids from before, right?"
"Yes."
Ramiris had long sought capable assistants. Foreign scholars were difficult to manage, and unintelligent monsters couldn't follow her designs.
The timing was ideal.
"Yahoo! I'm Ramiris! Want to work as my assistants?"
Shinji froze.
"Wait—fairies are real?!" Mark blurted out in disbelief.
So this was their first encounter with one. An honest reaction.
"I'm looking for smart helpers," Ramiris continued cheerfully. "Good pay! Atem already said educated otherworlders are extremely valuable!"
She'd said too much—but she wasn't wrong.
"…I agree," Xin said plainly. "Research suits me better."
That decided it.
"So please," Shinji said firmly, "take us on."
Ramiris spun in the air, laughing. "Fufu! Excellent! You pass! But you will obey my orders without exception!"
The sudden shift was classic Ramiris.
Ignoring their stunned expressions, she immediately laid out the conditions.
Three gold coins per month. Thirty-six annually. Bonuses dependent on mood.
Food, clothing, and housing provided.
Simple. Efficient.
And just like that, Shinji and his companions completed their swift immigration into Eterna.
A few days later—
The trio had settled into their roles. By now, they moved through Ramiris's laboratory with confidence, busy as her assistants, adapting faster than expected. That matter was resolved.
My concern lay elsewhere.
Gadra.
Since his return to the Eastern Empire, there had been no word. Silence. For an ordinary man, that would have meant nothing. For Gadra, it was troubling.
He was resilient, experienced, and cautious—but even someone like him could be swallowed by the Empire's shadows.
With that thought in mind, I made my way to the Control Room to meet Benimaru.
A massive surveillance screen dominated the chamber. Streams of information flowed across it—visions gathered by my magic observation system. Every monitored region responded clearly, orderly. No abnormalities. No disturbances.
The Empire's inner territory, however, remained beyond our reach. For now, the border was all we had.
Troops were amassed there in great numbers, fortifications layered upon fortifications. The air itself felt tense, heavy with intent.
"No movement today," I said calmly.
Benimaru nodded. "None that we can see. Still… this magic is impressive. You refined it recently, didn't you, Atem-sama?"
His tone was respectful but relaxed. He only allowed himself that when we were alone. I permitted it. Loyalty born of trust was more valuable than fear.
"Yes," I replied. "It is sufficient."
Diablo, who had been standing silently, smiled faintly before speaking.
"The structure alone is exquisite. The efficiency borders on absurd. The calculations required to maintain such stability—truly, it is a system worthy of—"
"Enough," I cut in, my voice firm.
The room fell silent instantly.
Diablo straightened. "My apologies."
This magic was powerful, yes—but it was not born from arrogance. Solarys, Sovereign of Wisdom, had shaped its foundation. Praise was unnecessary.
Benimaru exhaled softly. "You see? You push it too far, Diablo."
Diablo turned toward me, crimson eyes gleaming. "Surely, Atem-sama does not—"
"I said enough," I repeated, my gaze sharpening.
That ended it.
Diablo bowed his head without another word. He understood. He always did, eventually.
The calm did not last.
A sharp pulse echoed through the chamber—spatial distortion.
‹Atem. A direct spatial transfer has occurred inside the Labyrinth.›
Solarys's voice resonated in my mind, clear and composed.
‹The signature matches the old mage who recently aligned with us.›
"Gadra," I said.
‹Correct.›
I rose at once.
Benimaru and Diablo reacted immediately.
"Something's happened," Benimaru said.
"Gadra has returned," I replied. "But not unharmed."
Benimaru placed a hand to his chest. "I will remain here and maintain oversight."
Diablo stepped forward. "Then I will accompany you."
"Do so."
No hesitation. No wasted words.
We moved.
The chamber assigned to Gadra was already occupied.
He stood there—alive, breathing, posture steady.
Adalmann and his followers were present, their attention fixed on him. Ramiris and Veldora had arrived earlier, but once they confirmed Gadra's survival, they returned to their duties.
Gadra gave a dry chuckle when he saw me.
"I came closer to death than I would have liked," he said. "For a moment, I truly believed that was the end."
"You survived," I said. "That is what matters."
"Yes. Thanks to the bracelet."
The Resurrection Bracelet—a safeguard born from Ramiris's authority. Gadra had used it exactly as intended.
He continued, his expression darkening.
"During the Imperial conference, I advised restraint. I spoke against war, as ordered. They ignored me."
No surprise.
"I requested a private audience with Emperor Rudra," Gadra said. "It was granted. That meeting was scheduled for today."
Diablo's eyes narrowed slightly.
"I never reached him," Gadra continued. "Inside the palace… I was struck from behind. A blade through the heart."
The room went still.
"I detected nothing," Gadra said quietly. "No presence. No killing intent. The defenses I had layered were pierced as if they were mist."
He turned, showing the torn fabric of his robes. The cloth was corroded, eaten away by something unnatural.
"A technique," Diablo murmured. "One that ignores conventional perception."
"Yes," Gadra agreed. "I have suspicions—but no proof."
"Name them," I said.
Gadra hesitated. "If I speak without certainty, it may mislead."
"Then investigate," I replied. "You will not be punished for caution."
He bowed his head slightly. "Understood."
The fact remained—someone within the Empire possessed power and skill enough to assassinate Gadra without warning.
That meant the Empire's depths were more dangerous than anticipated.
"This confirms it," I said. "The Empire is not
reckless. They are prepared."
Diablo inclined his head. "Then our vigilance must deepen."
"Yes."
I looked at Gadra directly.
"You have fulfilled your role," I said. "At great cost. You will rest—for now. When you are ready, you will continue your inquiry. Discreetly."
Gadra straightened. "I will not fail."
"I know."
This incident did not shake me.
It clarified things.
The Empire had drawn blood.
And sooner or later—
They would face a king who never needed permission, never sought approval, and never overlooked a threat.